


Metamorphosis

by TeamAroPickle



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, Reylo - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAroPickle/pseuds/TeamAroPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The conscious choice has been made, now it is time for the true healing to begin. His rehabilitation aided and overseen by Rey, Ben Solo will now get to explore the life that he never thought he would get the chance of living, having been in the dark for so long. With Rey by his side, could redemption really hold such treasures: love, marriage, children? Rey POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a recent fic. I did not like the POV so I reworked it.

I remember coming upon him, weary and hesitant, watching as he sagged under the weight of his demons. The face of the wall in front of him was slashed and hacked with angry red scars from the repeated blows of his saber. Moments before, I had watched as he had ripped into the unfeeling barrier with frustrated screams, trying to channel his energy into something. Now, as his bent form huffed dejectedly in front of the dying embers of the damage, I came to tower over him by his side, my courage blooming.

Despite being so force-sensitive, in his rage he hadn’t noticed my approach, and was taken aback when it was me that met his gaze. Through the metal encased void of his helmet, I knew his eyes were there looking up at me, vulnerable, weak, and afraid.

Afraid because he knew that, with each passing day, the pull Snoke had on him was growing weaker, and the call from the Light was growing stronger. The spell was wearing off, the exploitations were beginning to grow frail given time and distance, and the puppet strings were gradually snapping away.

Except, the prospect of change was terrifying, especially when coupled with a newfound, blazing sense of conscience. But, such is typical in those that are abused and manipulated from a young age – change, even for the better, is petrifying.

But, no more hiding. No more delays. This show of weakness was a sign that he already knew he were too far-gone now.

“Take off that mask. You don’t need it anymore.” I said to him, stepping closer.

He didn’t move, frozen before me.

I reached towards his neck, not feeling any fear now, conscious that everything had abruptly changed – I could feel it within the signature of the atmosphere’s energy. Sweeping my fingertips along the edges of the clasp, I pressed upwards to release the airlock on his helmet, never taking my eyes off of where I knew his met mine. A hiss evacuated out into the air when the front mouth panel thrust forward, signaling the voice modulator had unlatched from his jaw, freeing him of the contraption.

I knelt then, to mirror his stance, to intimately observe his final moments in that infernal mask. Having spent so long as a prisoner within its confines, the moment of his liberation was one that I was proud to witness.

My palms met the underside of the helmet and lifted up, causing my fingertips to curl past strands of his hair while he was being unchained.

Even though I had seen his face on past occasions, the sight this time caused my breath to drawback. The severely marked difference in his eyes, as if finally coming out of a deep trance, told me that his evolution was complete.

No longer was he Kylo Ren.

Ben Solo looked back at me now.

The narrow, freckled face surrounded by masses of black hair belonged to a man who was in no way absolved from his sins, but was now finally on his way to proving himself worthy of redemption. The man – the son – whose mother and father knew would one day come back home.

A burden in my hand, I discarded the mask, now a dirty shackle, and made him and the beating energy currently flaring in my chest my principal focus. He was entranced, immobile when I inched near him, acting on a bizarre impulse as one of my hands came to hold the side of his neck. Fingertips brushed past wisps of hair at his nape while my thumb rubbed up to skim the beginnings of his earlobe, earning me a slight widening on his pupils.

Slowly, in case he began to object, I slid forward, bracing my weight on his shoulder with my other hand. Without expression, he neither rejected nor accepted me, simply watching my movements, just as unsure as I was. I could not explain why I was acting upon the yearning, but the pull was undeniable – I knew he felt it too, he always had.

We both had, but for obvious reasons, had ignored it.

When the tension became too high, after our foreheads had met, his composure broke with a vengeance. I recall leather wrapped hands rising to roughly grasp my jaw from behind my ears, dragging me forward onto his lips. The shiver, akin to an electric current, first hit my collarbones and ran into my toes while I tried to process how I felt about what was transpiring. Sensitive flesh against his was enough to lock my arms round his neck, but the frenzy of energy in our Force awareness’s was satisfying on an incomprehensible level. Suddenly a moan I hadn’t realized I was keeping prisoner broke free in a muffle, provoking a snarl from him. His hands shifted, reaching to twist around my neck, and the other going to hug me tightly around the middle, crushing me against him.

It was a desperate kiss, one that was poorly thought out, compulsive, and needy. However, in it, we sealed and acknowledged an underlying connection between us that we had been denying – one that ran deep and powerful.


	2. The Revelation

It had been months since his climactic moment, almost nearing a year now. While he still almost always wore black, the volatile commander of legions that once dramatically pounded his way through corridors of the StarKiller Base was not completely present any longer. That is not to say that he was a wholly different person – he would never be that – but it was obvious that a healing was taking place, one that I was personally overseeing.

The task of working with him through the transitions, through the nightmares, through the fits of rage, through the nuances of being reborn into the life that he should have lived all along was one that I voluntarily took on. I had applied for it the instant I caressed his lips, feeling the rage of our connection. If anyone was going to be able to aid him, I knew it was going to be me.

As much as I wanted to fight with the Rebellion, and as much as he did as well, the risk of he being too close to the action was far too great. If Snoke had caught onto him again, the result could mean his death or his ruin once more. So leaving the action behind us, we began a journey across the galaxy, careful to move frequently, avoiding detection, and kept him safe.

Such measures were exasperating to Ben, arrogance being a quality that would most likely never ebb - it being key within both the Skywalker and Solo lines. He would tell his mother, hesitantly, unsure of how to address her still, that it was unnecessary and that the use of his power in the hands of the Resistance would be unimaginable, but she would only smirk. Sad, but adoring, chocolate eyes, would roam every corner of Ben’s face, a mirror image of Han, and would reply with a simple “no”. But, it was apparent so much more was being said within that grey-bunned head of hers.

Stifling a laugh, I’d take Ben’s hand in mine while he stood stationary, shocked by his mother’s causal bluntness, and would attempt to drag him from the futile argument. Immediately, as I tore him away, General Organa’s eyes snapped to our conjoined hands only to meet my eyes with a cocked eyebrow. Where I had expected to find chiding disapproval, I only found knowing warmth.

It was easy to forget that Leia Organa, the very practical, by-the-book General, was indeed a Skywalker. One who was Force-sensitive and could practically see the bond humming between Ben and I, even when the two of us were not in close proximity to each other.

This bond is something that I admittedly took to my advantage, never playing entirely by the rules, when getting Ben to acquiesce to my first choice of destination: Jakku. As many harsh memories as the sandy planet had for me, I could not deny the odd desire I had to visit it, even if for one last time. A part of me recognized that some of the odd desire that I felt stemmed from wanting him to see it too - not the Alderaan refugee village that I had heard tale of, but _my_ life, the fragments of my story that I wanted him to experience.

Eventually he relented, and days later we entered into Jakku’s atmosphere, just missing a small sandstorm. I had let him pilot, I was content to be his co-pilot this time since it provided me the luxury of soaking in all my old home as I rode shotgun. We had to be careful to land the Falcon away from Niima outpost, not wanting an ex-admirer, such as Unkar Plutt, to spot my return, and so he placed us down near the edge of one of my favorite old scavenging yards, knowing we were in for quite a trek. The target of our interest was the AT-AT I had called home for nearly nineteen years.

The trip was sweltering and strenuous, and I was thankful that Ben had listened to me and decided not to wear all black, instead opting for a simple white shirt and navy trousers, even though the ensemble made he look very much like his father. I knew that he was aware that that was something he could never escape; no matter how redeemed he became, evidence of what had been done would always linger, even in the mirror.

But not too many thoughts, even those of Han, crossed our minds as we trudged through the sand dunes together, sun at our backs. Eventually, sweat dripping, we reached the belly of my old home, much to his surprised amusement. Having most likely expected a small hut or something similar, approaching a half-buried AT-AT was a twist to my story that he was amazed to find.

I jiggled the latch, sticky from a year of neglect, and broke open the hatch, relishing in the rush of cool air still locked inside the container. I easily slid in, a habit bred from muscle memory, but he struggled to shape his tall frame in and though the hole. Laughing at his useless attempts, I told him to give up, stay still, and wait for me. His hand in mine, I pulled him forward slowly, making sure to use my other hand to guide his head into the room without banging it upside the edge of the metal frame.

Once in, stooped slightly to accommodate his height, he looked down at me with teasing eyes I was very familiar with by then. They held a look that said he was apologetic and yet endlessly mischievous, now perpetually the boy that he wasn’t allowed to be until now. It prompted a smirk on my face when he leaned in closer, but was swiftly washed away when his eyes shifted from mine, distracted by something behind me. All evidence of his boyish fun was gone from his visage, and instead wonderment stood as its replacement. I turned to see the object of his fascination only to find the relics of my past: dusty water canteens, my scratchboard where the marks numbered into infinity, the vase holding a long withered desert flower, and other random trinkets that I had hoarded to make life seem a little more cozy.

He moved past me, leaving me to stand by the entrance and watch his broad shoulders maneuver through the tight quarters. Only watching his movements, I saw him move past each shelf and corner, never touching a thing, only drinking in the view. I could not understand what captivated him in his travels within the confines of my home, but it struck a cord within me, more so when he eventually stopped at my scratchboard to stare up at the multitude of fine, white lines etched into its face.

A fragment of me was annoyed that that object in particular was what caught his interest, an object that communicated the pathetic hope I had once clung to like an infant. I could not help as my eyebrows bunched together and I attempted to control my rising tears, throat constricting dryly. He was transfixed there, perhaps endeavoring to make a count of just how many days I had tallied, when I stepped up to stand by him. Glaring at the marks, I suddenly regretted ever coming to Jakku, not just with him, but in general. The new life that I had with the Resistance and with Ben erased the pain that memories of my old life brimmed with, and returning here, to the source of such agony, ripped open my wounds again.

I was lost in my thoughts, blind to the wet paths gently soaking my cheeks, and was too dull to realize that Ben had ceased his inspection of the wall. Instead, he was concerned with me, studying my stressed features.

Not able to turn my face, muscles too tight with either pain or pride I did not know, I shifted my eyes to peak at him from the very corner of my vision. An earthquake was occurring within me, tendons and muscles twitching everywhere, desperate to keep composure as I was so used to doing. That was what I always had to do – what desert-dwellers did on Jakku – you had to keep going in order to survive. But, I was losing the battle this time, never before had I had an audience to my weakness, especially not one who matched me in so many ways.

When I finally crumbled, the dam broken, I was free of the pain I had kept only to myself.

He stepped forward, not touching me, and waited for me to choose how, and if, I wanted to seek comfort. Grateful for the choice, I placed my head and hands upon his chest and let myself be enveloped by his arms, soothed by the presence of another person.

A passing thought, quickly stamped out for its triviality, contained my amusement over who was providing me security in that moment. Despite the easy flowing link between us presently, Ben had once been a rival and opponent of mine. Now, the man was holding me together, letting me break apart.

With the pressure of his jaw resting atop of my skull, his shoulders hunched to shield me, and his breathing even, a thought much more frightening than the ones that had incited my tears drifted into my head.

No not a thought. A revelation.

All of the evidence was present - it always had been. But, the inexplicable energy, the perfect sense of belonging and understanding I had now only just made it that much more pronounced.


	3. Affirmation

For someone who had, up until running into Finn, never left her home planet, seeing the galaxy through a series of planet-jumping escapades was thrilling, and I was absorbing every ounce of ‘new’ that I could. Ben had seen it all before of course, on raids with the First Order, but never once did he lord that fact over me. Each world we surveyed, he would let me lead on, following along beside me wherever I found interesting enough to explore.

It was not all peaceful travels though; a few times we reached moments that tested each other and our limits in the most exhilarating way that I knew.

It was fate that I adored flying and that Ben had the knack for it within his blood - piloting came natural to both of us. Returning often to D’Qar, it being the safest planet to be for an extended period of time, he and I would remove ourselves from the Resistance Base, taking only two X-wings with us, and would settle at a nether region of the green, humid planet. Having a huge chunk of land and air all to ourselves, we would often take to the skies, racing one another recklessly, performing maneuvers that were more daring than they were safe.

On one such occasion, each of us outfitted in flaming orange jump suits, we both ran to our crafts. Hurling joking insults and taunts at each other, the anticipation of another race rising up within our chests, sweet and electrifying. We had played this game of ‘cat-and-mouse’ many times, each loving the experience far more than the outcome.

Catching the lilt in his laugh, I knew that this round would be no different than any of the others.

I hopped into my cockpit, and looked over to him as he watched me with a matching smirk. Folding his long legs, he situated himself in his seat, and shoved his helmet on over his messy array of hair, clipping his ears in the process.

I started my engines, lights flashing on, turbines whirling to life, and flipped the necessary controls. Helmet fully secure, I took one last look over to Ben, dramatically slid my visor down, and began forward.

X-wings could really move, evidenced by how my stomach flattened against my spine instantly after takeoff. While I twirled through the clouds, I was continually amazed at how fast I could go compared to my speeder, and even the Falcon. But, I had to remind myself, that this was a race – one that I was going to win if I wanted to retain my streak and dignity.

Looking to my side, I saw Ben flanking me, attempting to overtake my position in a sly maneuver. I pushed ahead, executed a barrel roll, an old favorite, and shot right.

I banked left. Banked right. Ducked. Lifted. Dipped. Banked left again.

The nose of his ship would inch past mine; I’d turn up the heat and close the distance. He’d regain an inch; I’d take it back, looking over into his cockpit, determinately gazing into his face.

Countless angles between mountain ranges and valleys left me constantly on my toes. Never once did I have a moment to stop and think, every thought bent on how to defeat him. Eventually, I reached the end of the designated course, a curious rock formation signaling the entrance to the dirt landing pad for our jets.

But, Ben was on my tail.

Seconds turned into what seemed like hours. A mere mile to the finish marker turned into light-years.

However, creeping closer, sweat beading on my brow, teeth gritted, the entire situation feeling similar to the escape on Jakku that now seemed incredibly distant, I, at last, cruised silently in-between the rocks.

Victorious.

My cheers filled the small glass enclosure of my X-wing as I rolled to a stop, hearing the slow cry of my jets die down with a hum. Ben’s ship came to rest beside mine not a second after, but I was barely conscious of it as I hurled my body out of my seat, focused on celebrating in the open air. The moment my feet touched the ground, I yanked off my helmet with vigor, and threw up my fists towards the sun.

“Yes!” I giggled freely to the sky, nose scrunched with the enormity of my smile.

But, my merriment died out shortly after when I took note that it was unaccompanied by Ben’s usual chiming. Typically, he would celebrate with me, albeit mixing a few sore jabs in with the delight.

But, he was nowhere to be heard or seen.

I ducked under the wing of his craft, looking for his feet, and then moved around to the tail, checking for any sign of him.

Finally, starting to genuinely become concerned, joy at my win quickly ebbing, I climbed up to his cockpit and peered inside.

“Ben?”

At once, arms encircled me from behind, dragging me backwards and down onto the soft dirt. Relief and exasperation came with a rush, stirring up my laughter once again, this time blended with his baritone notes.

Ben had an oversized, boyish grin spread about his features – one that was so infectious, its vibrancy bled onto me. Nothing could steal the happiness that buzzed through my veins while I laid out, enclosed between his arms. Staring up at his face, bordered by a roughed up inky halo, the truth that I had accepted months ago crossed my mind, stronger than ever.

The necessity of having him in on the secret was almost too painfully intense at this point. I did not know if I could keep it to myself anymore. I had kept it shut up inside since its conception due to fear and denial. Through acknowledging its presence, I felt as if I was falling into a trap – one that would lead to self-betrayal.

However, I had weighed my options, evaluated the angles, analyzed the details, contemplated the dilemmas, and realized the conundrums. Despite how much I knew I shouldn’t want it, I knew resistance was useless. It was not necessarily in my control, it never had been – what happened, happened.

It was done.

Eyes up, meeting Ben’s chocolate stare, coming off the high of triumph, I lost my smile, giggles, and all signs of gaiety. He contemplated my abrupt seriousness with a wrinkled brow, but waited patiently for me to reveal.

I steadied my breath, wishing I could do the same with my erratic heart rate, and fixed my vision directly onto his eyes.

“I love you.”

As if poked in the side or, perhaps, electrocuted, his countenance flickered with astonishment. He couldn’t believe the meager words that he had heard, and yet he knew for a fact that he had caught them uttered all the same. I watched in painful, suspenseful, awe while a catalog of different facial contractions played out in his expression, signaling a range of distinctive thoughts.

I read his eyes. They did not seem to believe me, even when he shifted to lean on one arm, bringing his other hand to hold the side of my face. I understood why he was so hesitant to trust my declaration - our past was not one that you would expect to find this kind of tender emotion to flourish from.

Regardless, I was becoming increasingly anxious with each stretched moment. Having just laid out my heart, bare and open to another, I felt naked. Insecurity and fear were two things that I had once felt in his presence before – I did not want to endure them for his sake again, even under these drastically different circumstances.

I knew he was afraid, but so was I.

“Say something…” I pleaded in a whisper.

The pad of his thumb ghosted over the ridge of my cheekbone, close to my eye, while he continued to stare down at me appraisingly. A thought occurring to him, a smile broke out across his face, eyes mischievous, and he leant down so that our foreheads touched.

“Rey.” he spoke softly, breath caressing my flesh.

At once, with a flexing of his fingers against my temple, a probe pushed against my mind, and I shut my eyes. Far from feeling like the attempts he had made when he and I were once enemies, this sensation was gentle and affectionate. I let him in, curious to see what he was planning, and realized just how profound this action was.

I had willingly let him into my head – trusted him enough to let him have free access to my mind.

There was absolutely no doubt of my feelings for him now.

The pressure of his mental intrusion built up rapidly, and released with what sounded like a whisper floating into my thoughts. It was faint, breathy and light - almost too soft for me to focus on; but the phrase I heard was unmistakable.

_I love you._

Gasping, my eyes shot open to look upon Ben’s face, shocked at what he had been able to do, but shocked further by what it what it meant.

“You’ll have to teach me that.” I said grinning breathlessly, not knowing what to say now.

Eyes crinkling, smile wide, Ben laughed and instantly took my mouth with his. Having not shared a kiss since our first, indulging in the act was like finally taking breath of air after being suffocated. Having the pure emotions, now confirmed, put behind the action, triggered something madly satisfying – something that was notably absent in our first kiss.

Wanting more, wanting to absorb him if possible, I forced him to flip us over, lips still conjoined. As both his hands came up came to encase my skull, pulling me down onto him while I sat on his stomach, pure elation exploded in my sternum. If not for the intense pleasure of his teeth now pulling on my lower lip, dragging it out, I would have been blinded by the pain of the intensity it all.

I briefly considered whether the current atmosphere was so extreme because of how he and I were Force-bonded. With every brush and breath, it did not feel as if just my body was aflame, but as if my consciousness was as well. Gauging by how Ben was reacting to each shift of my body, I surmised he felt the same mental frenzy.

As much as I wanted to keep going, I willed myself to pull away from him, breaking our tether with a light pop. It took some time for us to regain normal breathing patterns, he and I panting with effort, but at last I was able to speak.

“What now?” I asked, somewhat teasing.

Ben sighed and tilted his head, a peaceful smile that I had not seen him wear quite so well before crossing his face, as he leaned back, an arm bent behind his head. Fixing me with a look filled with trepidation, as if we had not shared a heated, passionate kiss just a moment ago, he reached forward for my right hand and held it in his, looking down to gaze upon it.

Kneading the skin across the lowest knuckle of my third finger, Ben raised his eyes to mine meaningfully.


End file.
